


The Captain of Oz

by Santana2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Wizard of Oz References, crackiest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santana2/pseuds/Santana2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve gets knocked out and sent to the wonderful world of Oz. Sort of. </p><p>Mildly (mostly) cracky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Captain of Oz

**Author's Note:**

> Some more oldish stuff for you. I'llprobably be doing this more as school starts back.

Right, so Steve knew he’d been knocked out.

He wasn’t entirely clear on _how_ that had happened, but it was the only way any of this made sense.

Steve was standing on what could only be called, and he wanted to ram his head into something for even dreaming this, the Yellow Brick Road. Steve made a vow right then that he would never tell Tony or Clint about this. Ever.

“Well, what now?” Steve muttered to himself, staring down the path.

“I suspect the point is to simply follow it,” said a familiar female voice behind him.

Steve whipped around to the voice and saw, “Pepper? Why are you here? . . . And what the heck are you wearing?”

The red-head, decked out in a full-on sparkly ball-gown and wand in hand, shrugged, “Hey, it’s your dream. Besides you should probably be more concerned with what you did to Hawkeye.”

“What –,” Steve started but was interrupted by growling somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. He tore his eyes away from Pepper to look down at, “Er, Toto, I presume.”

The scruffy little dog growled again then opened its mouth, “Call me that one more time and I will bite your kneecaps off.”

Steve stared a little longer and finally said, “Clint?”

The dog, or Clint as it were, spoke again, “I’m going to murder you for this, Rogers.”

“Boys, if you don’t mind,” Pepper interrupted, “I’d like to get out of this insanity as well. Now, Steve, as far as I can tell you need to, well, follow the Yellow Brick Road, and maybe at the end of it you’ll wake up, or tap your heels together or something. Just get going, before flying monkeys show up. I know you’ve seen this movie so figure it out. You’ve got the red shoes and everything.”

Steve glanced down at his, sure enough, red Captain America boots and murmured, “I thought in the book they were silver.”

 “Of all the weirdness to point out right now you pick that? You made me a DOG!” Clint rolled his eyes. Or tried, being a dog and everything.

“Just get on with it you two,” Pepper said with a long suffering sigh, tapping her glittery wand in one hand. With that she was gone in a floating bubble.

“Right,” Steve said in resignation, “Getting on with things. Come on, Clint.”

Clint trotted up next to Steve on stubby legs as they started down the path, saying, “Seriously, man, what did you get hit with to cause _this_?” indicating the landscape with one doggy paw.

“No idea,” Steve said, still marching forward, “But I’d like to never speak of this again –,” He was cut off by a rather loud voice, shouting over some very impressive sounds of struggling.

 “Unhand me, foul post!” And yeah, Steve would recognize those dulcet tones anywhere.

Steve jogged ahead to see Thor, in all his thunder-god glory, wrestling with a post the size of a mature oak, that was currently chained to his back, “Thor?”

The other blonde ceased his flailing and turned to Steve, “Ah, good Captain!” a smile immediately lit Thor’s face, “As this is obviously your subconscious’s doing, would you kindly release me from these ridiculous restraints?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Steve fumbled looking around for something to help his team-mate. All there seemed to be was a field and fence-posts.

Clint, on the other hand, was being increasingly unhelpful, “Wait,” he said, “If this is supposed to be where we meet the scare-crow, and Thor’s in his place . . .” Clint trailed off, then looked at Steve in mock scandal, “Are you calling Thor brainless, dear Captain?!”

“What, no!” Steve paused in his search to glare at Clint, then look at Thor’s mildly insulted face, “I would never think that Thor. Never. You’re the smartest god of thunder I know.” Steve tried to smile and remember this was all just a dream, even as Thor grumbled and rolled his eyes (He’d been spending way too much time with Tony).

“Man, Freud would have a field-day with this one,” Clint muttered then yipped, “Hey, Cap. This what we need?” He pointed his nose at a key hanging on a fence post.

Frankly, Steve had no idea, but picked it up and walked up to Thor anyway. He located the lock on the chains, twisted the key in, and watched as they fell away from Thor’s large chest.

“Thank you, Captain,” Thor rumbled as he pushed the log away, “Perhaps, now, I may forget the slight on my intelligence.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve didn’t know how Thor would remember in the first place since this was Steve’s dream, but that was way over-thinking this weirdness, “Let’s just get on the road again. I’m getting a head-ache.”

“’Bout time, too,” said yet another familiar voice on the other side of the fence.

Thor glanced over Steve’s shoulder as Steve turned on his heel to see, “Iron Man?”

There was Tony encased in the Iron Man armor, looking somewhat more rusty than it should, leaning on the wood fence staring down at Clint, “You made Birdbrain the dog? Seriously?”

“I know, right?” Clint said, still grumpy, “Which makes you the –“

“Tin Man. Who only wants a heart. Right. Very creative, Captain,” Steve could practically _hear_ Tony roll his eyes behind the face-plate.

“Wait,” Steve finally spoke up looking to Tony, “Weren’t we supposed to find you stuck in the woods and help you, too?” Steve was feeling dumber by the second even if this was supposed to be all his idea.

Tony scoffed, “Please, like I need help with _my_ suit. Even if it is your dream, Cap.” He levered himself off the fence and started down the road again, “C’mon, already. Let’s get this cliché trope over with.”

Steve snatched up Clint (who looked mutinous enough to bite him) and jogged after Tony, Thor close behind.

“So then,” Clint piped up as Steve fell into step with Iron Man, “We’ve got the Tin Man and the Scarecrow,” he said indicating Tony and Thor, “Pepper was apparently the Good Witch – ,“

“What’s my lady doing in your twisted dream Cap?” Tony interrupted before Clint talked over him again.

“And since this is Cap’s dream that must make him Dorothy,”Clint added with a snicker, “Which sort of makes up for my being cast as the pet. A bit. Not really though.” He glared up at Steve.

“So,” Steve sighed, “We just have to find the Cowardly Lion and make it to Oz and see the Wizard.”

“That entire sentence makes me want to slap somebody,” Tony grumbled beside Steve, “So, Cap, any way you can make this lovely dream go faster?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but someone beat him to it, “I think this more or less has to play out on its own.”

They all started at the new voice and turned back the way they’d just come.

“Sorry,” Bruce smiled in his calm way, clothes and hair looking more tattered and scruffy than usual.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony said inside the suit, “Our Cowardly Lion. Seriously, Steve you are having a psyche eval when this is over.”

“Actually,” Bruce said kindly, “If you’ll recall, Steve, you were hit with some kind of knock-out gas during the fight. Anything that’s powerful enough to take-down Captain America probably has some interesting side effects. Strangely elaborate and slightly insulting dreams for instance.” Bruce started walking again and they all followed, Steve suddenly feeling less crazy.

“Why do you know more about this than I do?” Steve asked, pulling Clint away from Tony who was trying to scratch him behind the ears while making baby-noises.

“You’re just remembering, is all,” Bruce said, “The gas may be wearing off, too. Which means we’re almost at the end of – oh, there it is,” Bruce finished as blandly as ever, stopping momentarily to look up at a massive emerald green . . . heli-carrier.

“Steve,” Clint said, “You are a massive dork.”

“Shut up, I got hit with an unknown substance,” Steve grouched, “I will drop you off at the pound.”

Clint growled and Tony laughed.

Bruce sighed, “I doubt any of this is really an accurate representation of Steve’s true feeling toward any of us, but it’s not my head so I can’t say for sure.” Bruce smiled apologetically at the Captain and shrugged. Honestly, Steve felt just as lost here as the rest of them seemed to, so he would definitely out his money on that theory.

“At least the transport is grounded,” Thor chuckled and moved forward.

Only to be stopped by a giant puff of green smoke and a tall, horned figure standing in the middle of the path, a broom in the place of a scepter.

“I am not amused by this, Rogers,” Loki said lowly, glaring holes into each of them.

“Yeah? Join the club. We’re getting t-shirts,” Clint barked, squirming in Steve’s arms.

“And Fury thinks _I’m_ the crazy one,” Tony grumbled, then spoke louder, “So, what now? You gonna trap us in your tower and demand Steve’s fabulous shoes?”

Steve punched Tony in the arm as Loki scoffed, “I see no point in trying to destroy the lot of you in a _dream_ of all things. I’d rather your demise be a bit more substantial. Carry on and don’t bother with me again unless you’re surrendering on a battlefield,” Loki haughtily stomped to the side of the road, sat on his broom, and took off out of sight.

“That was very strange,” Thor said, staring in the direction his brother had just taken off in, “Now more than ever I wish to leave this place.”

“I second that,” Tony said pushing Steve along from behind toward the shiny green heli-carrier.

“Even in a dream I hate that guy,” Clint growled.

They reached the door (which took a little while to find, considering the real heli-carrier didn’t actually sport a door in any obvious places) and, not knowing what else to do, knocked.

Unsurprisingly, a panel near the top slid open and none other than Agent Coulson leaned out, “Well, it’s about time. The Wizard’s getting impatient.” He stuck his head back through, not acknowledging the surprised and confused looks he received, and the door slowly began to open.

They stepped through, once again greeted by the sight of Coulson, slightly smiling as always, “Follow me. And no, I do not have a horse of a different color to haul you there.” He started walking toward the center of the carrier, and Steve thought Clint might’ve pouted a bit at the lack of multi-colored horses. He couldn’t really tell with dogs.

Coulson led them down-stairs, through a few corridors and into the meeting room, everything consistently and disturbingly green the whole way. Once they were all piled around the table Coulson stepped out of the room and closed the door.

“So,” Steve started and set Clint down on the table, “what do we –“

Suddenly a green light shot out of the center of the table and a voice boomed, “You better hope the psyche department is in a good mood for your evaluation, Captain.” Clint yipped and scampered off the table only to be caught by Thor’s quick reflexes as Fury’s face flickered to life above the table.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up as Tony said, “Okay we should’ve seen that one coming.”

“If you idiots are done playing dress-up,” Fury’s disembodied head spoke over Tony, “The Captain needs to wake up,” he paused to look at Steve. Steve stared back helplessly for a moment then glanced down at his shoes. Fury rolled his one visible eye, “Not like that, Rogers. You’ve been in medical for nearly 24 hours now. The gas should be out of your system by now.”

_Captain?_

When Steve still looked unsure as to how to go about just _waking up_ Clint suggested, “I could bite him if that would help.”

_Hey, Steve._

“Down, Barton,” Fury said, “Maybe Romanoff can help.”

_. . . think he’s waking up . . ._

“What’s Natasha going to do,” Tony asked, “She’s not even here.”

_C’mon, Rogers, Stark keeps opening drawers . . ._

Fury almost-smiled, “Well, no, not exactly.”

Steve felt a small but sharp pain against his cheek.

_For goodness sake, Steve –_

“Steve! Snap out of it already,” and just like that Steve’s eyes blinked open to see a bland recovery room on the heli-carrier (the not-green one) and Natasha staring down at him, lightly slapping his cheek.

* * *

Steve blinked a few more times before rasping out, “Don’t tell me you’re supposed to be Auntie Em.”

Natasha only raised an eyebrow, which for her was code for _I am extremely concerned about your mental health right now_. “Maybe while you explain that you can also explain why you want to drop Clint off at the pound.” She turned away to grab a glass of water and call the nurse and only then did Steve see the rest of his team sitting in various forms of disarray around the already tiny room. Tony was smirking at him (“Welcome back, Cap’n”) while Bruce slapped his hand away from a jar of cotton-swabs. Thor beamed and waived at him, probably told explicitly not to be overly loud while Steve slept. Clint was in the corner dozing making little snuffling noises now and then.

“How’re you feeling?” Bruce asked quietly as Natasha returned with the water.

Steve took a sip before answering, “Fine. Weird dream. Clint will never forgive me. At least there were no monkeys.”

When all but Clint gave him a worried look Steve realized he might be babbling and decided he really didn’t care. He sighed, “Just wake me again when they say I can leave, kay?”

He didn’t even wait for Bruce’s chuckled, “Sure, Steve,” before he drifted off again. Hopefully to a nice _dreamless_ sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Because I didn’t know how else to cast Clint and Natasha just didn’t fit as either witch. I hate the ending, but I guess one can’t have everything. Yeah, hope you got a giggle or two out of it. Either way, please comment :)


End file.
